


Busdir o-Iad

by casicastiel (orphan_account)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Confessions, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, forehead kissin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-01
Updated: 2012-12-01
Packaged: 2017-11-20 00:48:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/579461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/casicastiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel breaks down and confesses to Dean the extent of the damage he caused in Heaven.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Busdir o-Iad

It’s their third dirty motel room this week, moving state to state, hunt to hunt in search of anything related to goings-on upstairs or downstairs. Dean is sitting at the small table in the corner, making his way through the cheesesteak Sam had dropped off for him before he’d left for the library and wi-fi connection. Cas, as has become his habit now that he’s hunting with the boys, is sitting in the middle of one of the beds, carefully paging through John’s journal as if he’s found himself a new scripture. (Dean thinks there’s something vaguely off-putting about that particular comparison, but the sandwich is too good to dwell on it further.)

As he’s licking his fingers and crumpling up the napkins and wrappers he’s managed to strew all over the table, he hears a muffled, small sigh from the hours-silent angel in the corner. Tossing the balled-up paper in the trashcan as he gets up, he walks over to the bed, peering over Cas’s shoulder at the book. Cas is staring at a symbol he’d seen his dad draw in chalk on the back of motel room doors when he and Sam were kids, but hadn’t paid much attention to since.   
  
“It’s just a symbol, Cas, not the end of the world,” he begins to joke, but it dies away when Cas doesn’t even react. Frowning, Dean starts to try a different tack, but Cas beats him to it.  
  
“Akzariel.” Cas sounds resigned. “This sigil bears the name of Akzariel.”  
  
Dean sits down on the edge of the bed beside him, now recognizing the Enochian letters on the page. “Who was he?”  
  
Cas tips his head up, staring reverently at the water-stained ceiling. “Akzariel, protector of man from evil spirits;  _busdir o-Iad_ , glory be to God.” Then, quietly, looking down again at his hands: “He was the first I killed in Heaven. He was young, he was only trying to follow orders, and I… I made the Host watch as I pulled the feathers from his wings.”  
  
Dean responds with a routine “It wasn’t you”, but it falls flat. Cas glances at him with the clearest ‘you don’t know what you’re talking about’ face he’s ever seen, and continues. “Before I began the ritual, I summoned Balthazar to the warehouse. I knew what he had told you, I knew you were coming to stop me, and I was so blinded by the betrayal that I killed him there without a second thought.” His eyes close and he whispers, “Balthazar, keeper of the stars.  _Busdir o-Iad_.”  
  
Dean wants to say something, but Cas keeps going. “I can still see their faces, Dean, hundreds and hundreds of my brothers. I killed them all, all who had ever followed Raphael, and as I tore the Host asunder I commanded them to rejoice in me.”  
  
Then, with an awful tremble in his shoulders that causes something to twist and rip in Dean’s gut, Cas drops his head against the heels of his hands and repeats, “I killed them  _all_ , Dean,” and the way his voice cracks on the word Dean knows this is spiraling quickly into  _really, really not okay_. He brings his arm down from the headboard to curl around Cas’s shoulder, rubbing his thumb softly into the nape of Cas’s neck, a motion years-practiced on Sam.   
  
It must be several minutes that they sit there together, as Cas’s breathing eventually slows and his shoulders relax ever-so-slightly and Dean knows they’ve made it past the immediate crisis. Slowly and deliberately, he moves so he is crouching in front of Cas on the bed, gently pulling Cas’s wrists away from his face with one hand and tipping his chin up with the other. Then, ducking his own head to catch Cas’s eyes the way he had lifetimes ago in the angels’ green room, Dean speaks quietly but firmly:  
  
“Cas, I forgive you.”  
  
Then, because he absolutely cannot handle the look on Cas’s face right now, he leans over and kisses him softly on the forehead, murmuring “ _Busdir o-Iad_ ” into the angel’s hairline.   
  
And then — because if this impulsive touchy-feely streak lasts for one more minute Dean thinks he may spontaneously combust — he swings his legs over and off the bed, getting up to fetch the TV guide and remote to see if there’s anything good on.  
  
It’s probably a good thing that Dean misses the worshipful, wide-eyed look of absolute awe that lingers on Cas’s face for a few seconds after he gets up.  
  
And it’s probably also a good thing that when Sam comes back and Dean’s got an arm slung slightly less-than-casually around Cas’s shoulders, explaining away the wonders of Star Trek, Sam chooses not to mention it.

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the headcanon post (http://thatwaywarddaughter.tumblr.com/post/36839180630) I wrote on Tumblr a couple of days ago; and all the thanks to Basia (basiacat.tumblr.com), who beta'd this for me and helped me fumble through that bitch of a last sentence.


End file.
